


Chase Me Down, I'll Come to You

by Socrates7727



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Sexual Assault, Auror Harry Potter, Begging, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More fluff and comfort to come, Post-War, Rescue, Savior Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socrates7727/pseuds/Socrates7727
Summary: Draco knew it was a stupid idea but, somehow, he found himself walking home alone. In the dark. Without a wand. He was pissed and he knew he was just being paranoid... until he heard footsteps behind him.Or, Draco gets himself into a bad situation and Harry saves the day (as always). So much fluffy comfort planned.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 203





	Chase Me Down, I'll Come to You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own HP or any of the characters! Enjoy!

Fuck Pansy, honestly, and fuck Blaise too while he was at it. Draco loved his childhood friends _because_ they were childhood friends but, sometimes, that just wasn’t quite enough. He was done with Pansy’s drunken attempts to coax him into a threesome and he was more than done with drunk Blaise’s political opinions. They could both go to hell. Glowering at them from across the room, he slammed the money for his tab down on the bar and stormed out of the club. 

He could have called a Muggle cab or used the nearest floo network, but he resigned himself to walking because the cold night air felt good in contrast to the air from the club and he was too pissed to deal with other people right now. Maybe it wasn’t the ‘smart’ move and maybe he was still a little on the tipsy side of buzzed but anger was a hell of a motivator. As long as he put distance between himself and those insufferable drunk people, he didn’t care. Besides, his apartment wasn’t even that far. 

Slowly, the thudding bass and voices from the club faded into silence. It felt good—calming, even—for a moment or two until he realized the position that he’d just put himself in. The streets were obscenely dark and completely empty. He was walking at a very brisk pace, he realized, and it definitely wasn't because he was scared, but some of the shadows seemed to reach for him and… Fuck, this was a bad idea. Glancing around, Draco confirmed what he already knew with a sigh. He was too far from the club to make turning back worth it and, even with the uncomfortable crawling of his skin, he knew he was just being paranoid so he persevered. 

Until he heard footsteps. 

They were behind him and distant but they were definitely there. Shit. He risked half a glance over his shoulder and felt his stomach drop. Behind them, there was a dark figure about thirty feet back just trailing him. 

His legs began to move faster without his direction. If he could just make it to his neighborhood, then he would be okay and there would be familiar, albeit sleeping, people around. Witnesses were good, right? He knew he was being stupid and his rational mind screamed that he was overreacting because, after all, he didn’t own these streets. Who was he to judge? Maybe this guy just wanted to go for a late night stroll. But his heart thudded in his chest and he was nauseous all the same. 

It was another two blocks before Draco decided to take the risk of shooting another look back over his shoulder, and he nearly fell flat on his face. The man was maybe fifteen feet behind him now—almost half the distance he’d been before—but it was close enough for Draco to see the sheer size and muscle of his stalker. Fuck. 

Again, Draco picked up the pace but he was hyper aware of the footsteps behind him now and they seemed to be speeding up too. Merlin, if he could’ve just had a wand... but no. This was a mostly Wizarding section of London, per Pansy’s request, and that only made it worse because anyone with ten minutes and a copy of the Daily Prophet could figure out that his blond hair meant he was a Malfoy. And that Malfoy meant former Death Eater, which meant no wand. 

Thankfully, Draco wasn't entirely stupid and he had a few small, Muggle self defense items that he usually rotated between but he wasn't allowed anything that could be considered a weapon by the Ministry. No wand, no gun, no knife, no taser, and nothing ‘dangerous’. Which left him with his keys and a tiny Muggle stun gun that probably couldn’t even kill a fly. 

Something was better than nothing, though, so he grabbed both in either hand, threading his keys between his fingers and locking them in by making a fist. He doubted either would have much of an effect on the giant brute of a man behind him. 

Draco was officially beginning to panic. He was practically running, at this point, and the man behind him was only getting closer. Maybe he was out for a midnight jog? But even as he thought it, Draco knew he was screwed. On this straight patch of sidewalk, the man was proving just as quick on his feet and Draco knew he was too far from any shops or his apartment to make a break for it. He couldn't turn back for the club, either, but he had to do something. 

With another quick glance behind him—this time for traffic—Draco darted across the street and ducked into one of the larger alleyways. It was dark, and wet, and Draco was overcome with the sinking feeling that he was just dooming himself further but he forced his legs into a sprint and took the corners as fast as he could. 

Footsteps thudded behind him, but he'd managed to put at least ten more feet between them so he kept going. He knew he was agile and he could remember maintaining his center of balance to turn on a dime with his broom. He tried to channel that now. It seemed to be working, honestly, because the sheer weight of the man following him hindered him at every corner, but he was still keeping up. Still too close.

Draco ran blindly, taking corners at random and frantically gripping his keys to keep them from jingling and giving away his position. The man didn't need the sound, though, because he was still only a couple yards behind. Draco was completely lost, at this point, and he cursed himself for this horrible idea but kept going and took the corners even faster trying to angle for where he thought he remembered the main road being. Until—

Fuck.

He skidded to a halt, narrowly missing the solid brick wall in front of him. Shit, shit, shit, _shit!_ He whirled around and started back towards the last turn but froze midstep. That shadowy, hulking figure had rounded the corner. 

Draco could see the exact moment in which his pursuer realized his predicament and, if he hadn't been on the verge of hyperventilating, he might have tried to scream. No one would hear him in these alleys, though, and the buildings looked too industrial to have any residents at this time of night. Fuck. As a last resort, he tucked his stun gun and his keys behind his back. 

Slowly, one step at a time, like he was relishing the sudden power he had, the man backed him against the brick. This close, Draco could see his oily grin and the utter lust in his eyes. He was shaking, both from terror and from the adrenaline of the chase, but when the man noticed it he just laughed. It was harsh and out of breath, but gleeful. Fuck, Draco was so stupid! 

"Gotcha." The man laughed and Draco’s stomach lurched. There was less than three feet between them now and it took everything in him not to just start sobbing on the ground. Instinct and years of experience with his father told him to beg, to grovel at this man's feet, and maybe he would get out alive. Maybe. But he'd seen the way people looked at him after the trials and he knew there would be no mercy tonight. Instead, he tried to remember how to breathe. There was no point in negotiating or trying to reason with the man. Draco could smell alcohol that wasn't from him and he recognized that crazed, primal look in those dark eyes too well. 

"Thought you could get away from me, didn't you?" The man stepped closer, and Draco instinctively pressed himself thin against the wall. Anything for more distance, even an inch.

"You're too pretty to be walking out here alone... and far too easy of a target." The man didn't slur his words but that only made this worse, somehow. If he’d been drunk enough, Draco might have stood a chance in a fight. Sober(ish), though… Draco shook his head and frantically tried to memorize his face on the off chance he actually lived long enough to make it to the Aurors, but it was a halfhearted effort. 

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." the man tsked, and closed the distance between their bodies. Draco didn't struggle, even when thick hands pawed at his jeans and foul breath hit his face. 

"No one would even notice if you disappeared, would they?" Draco gagged. Pansy and Blaise would notice—eventually—but the most they could do was take it to the Ministry and Merlin knows no one there would give a shit. He was so fucked. 

"Pity..." the man hissed, dragging teeth against Draco's cheek as the button on his jeans finally gave. It hit the cement with an audible _clink!_

That was it. Draco lurched forward, pressing himself as hard as he could into the man, and rounded on him with both hands. The stun gun hit flesh first, and Draco pressed the button as he buried his keys into the man's left side. He didn't wait to see a reaction or to try and stun the man again. The second his attacker was off of him, Draco broke into a sprint. 

He ran, completely blind in the darkness and with tears in his eyes. He vaguely heard a yell and some choice words echoed off the brick but then there were footsteps pounding after him and he swore internally. He'd only made the man more pissed off. But, he'd gained a tiny bit of a head start so he bolted and pushed himself past the point of needing oxygen until he found a road. 

His feet hit the pavement and the straight away gave him nothing but an impending sense of dread because he was fast but he had no doubt the man could outlast him. He ran nevertheless. 

It seemed hopeless and Draco knew that he'd only delayed his fate until he saw lights on up ahead. The man saw it too, and surged even closer but with salvation in sight, Draco managed to stay out of reach. It was a restaurant, some kind of casual coffee and burger joint, but Draco didn't give a shit if it was a drug den or the goddamn parliament building. The sign said open, and that was enough. 

His hand closed around the frigid metal of the door and then he was inside. Half of him expected the man to fight and rip the door open but, when he saw that someone working behind the counter, he retreated back into the shadows. Thank Merlin. Draco was shaking so hard he could barely see straight and he started for the counter, drawing the eyes of at least a couple people, when he heard the bell above the door ding. 

Shit. 

Panic welled yet again inside his chest and he bolted for the booth farthest away from the door that was still occupied, praying that the presence of other people would be enough of a deterrent. He made it into the booth, half pressed against a total stranger, and heard the first half of ‘what the fuck is going on’ before a meaty hand dragged him back by his collar. He choked, and looked desperately to the counter for help. 

To the woman's credit, she had her wand out and was approaching them. He was shoved roughly to his knees but it didn't even matter because the sight of a wand was such a welcome relief that he didn't give a shit how many bruises the man left on his skin. 

"Sir, step away from the blond." The whole restaurant was silent and Draco knew this was it he'd made it to safety. Except… 

"So sorry for the disturbance, ma'am, merely trying to do my job. He's got a bounty on his head the size of Australia for skipping out on his bail contract." No. No, no, no, there was no fucking way this was happening. Draco heard the woman demand identification and credentials but the man's voice was suddenly nothing but polite and rational. 

No, it wasn't possible right? But then the woman was handing back the ID and Draco was being manhandled towards the door away from safety. He couldn't do it. No one would give a shit because he was a Death Eater of course he had a bounty on his head and no one would even bother to question it. Nevermind the fact that he'd never taken bail, let alone from a bail bond company, and nevermind that he'd been acquitted. 

Fuck! He tried to dig his feet in and struggle at least a little bit but both his keys and his stun gun had been ripped away from him as soon as the man had presented valid ID. How did he have ID, though? Draco couldn’t think about that right now because he was halfway to the door and he knew exactly was was waiting for him out in the darkness. 

He was beyond desperate, and that was what let him cling to the back of one of the booths and beg someone—anyone—to stop him. If he could have reasoned or taken the time to explain maybe one or two of the bystanders would have cared but as it was all he could manage was a broken stream of 'please no' and 'help me'. His pleas went unanswered, though. 

They were at the door and Draco had nothing left in him. He was exhausted and hysterical and the crushing realization that he'd reached safety and it _didn’t matter_ because no one was going to help him… it was too much. He collapsed, dead weight in the man's grasp. It hadn’t been intended as some kind of struggle or last stitch effort, but his weight was evidently enough to make the man pause. The delay was perfect, apparently. 

"What the fuck is this?" The voice was male, but that was all Draco could gather. Everything sounded wrong and distant like he was underwater.

"He's got ID and says there's a bounty out on that one." The woman behind the counter said it so matter-of-factly that Draco choked on the sound of it. His one last chance at salvation had emerged from some kind of back room like an angel but Draco already knew it was too late. He would take the explanation just like everyone else had. 

"License and contract, please." Again, the entire restaurant stiffened with anticipation. They all sat there watching like Draco’s pre-murder drama was a play put on just for their entertainment. Dinner and a show. 

"Of course." The man handed over the same ID and credentials from before, which Draco could see the blurry figure examining. Fuck, was it even worth trying to run again? The man was distracted, clearly, but Draco couldn’t feel his legs and the thought of standing up made his head spin.

"And your contract?" The man stiffened.

"Is this really necessary, Auror? He's just a-"

"Show me the contract." That voice was pure steel and Draco’s internal organs twisted in response. Above him, the man’s face tightened. The Auror was being so insistent and Draco wanted to praise whoever or whatever had brought his savior into his life. Wait… Auror? From the floor, he couldn't really see either of their faces but he could feel the tension of the stand off in the air. 

"You don't have a bail contract on your head, do you?" It took him a second to realize the Auror was speaking to him without looking at him, but then he frantically shook his head. He was ripped out of the larger man's grasp by another set of hands. There was a wand in the air, aimed at his attacker. 

"You're under arrest via correction code 73382 and-" Draco didn't hear the rest. Something in him just snapped and he half-scooted, half-crawled as far away from the confrontation as he could get. He watched through bleary, tear-stained eyes as the man was cuffed and his wand was confiscated. His savior gave explicit instructions to the woman behind the counter, as well as to the other people in the restaurant, and sent a request for backup through his wand before he turned on Draco. Instinctively, Draco curled tighter into a ball and hid his face. 

"Hey, it's okay. Can you look at me? Or tell me your name?" Merlin, that voice was so gentle and so calm that it hit Draco like a drug. He looked up without even thinking into the greenest eyes he'd ever seen and... glasses. And a lightening bolt scar. Shit.

" _Potter?_ " His voice broke over the name but recognition shone back at him from the Auror. There was no fucking way, right? But...

"Malfoy, what the... actually no, it's okay, don't explain anything yet. Can you stand? I want to take you to the back room until the other Aurors arrive." Wordlessly, Draco nodded. 

It took a lot of support from Potter but he managed to stand and they made their way past the counter. Draco noticed when the Auror deliberately put himself between Draco and the false bounty hunter, shielding him with his body, but the relief didn't quite sink in until the door to the little break room closed behind them. 

Potter eased him down into the only chair with solid arms, no doubt afraid he might pass out, and said something vaguely about water before returning with a thick coat and a glass of ice chips. He offered the coat, and Draco took it—suddenly aware of the rain that had soaked into his clothes and the chill in the air around them. 

"Sorry, I don't have a med kit or a shock blanket so that's the best I can do until the others get here but..." Potter trailed off, but Draco just curled his fingers into the fabric and pulled it tighter around himself. He knew he looked like a mess, but Potter didn't stare. 

"Draco," Fuck, his first name was not at all what he was expecting and he shivered but played it off as being cold. "Are you hurt?" Draco took a mental stock of his body as Potter seemed to do the same visually, but ultimately shook his head.

"Bruises’ll heal." Potter nodded, but his eyes seemed to finally catch at the waist of Draco's jeans where the button was missing and the zipper was barely hanging on by a thread. Quickly, Draco rearranged the coat to cover his lap. Redirect, redirect, redirect. 

"What are you doing here, Potter?" The Auror met his eyes, but there was no way Draco could have missed the quiet sort of pity there.

"Call me Harry, please, and I was meeting a friend for coffee before their shift started. Before we do anything else, is there anyone who is looking for you or waiting to hear from you right now? Anyone you want to call?” Draco swallowed the lump in his throat, but shook his head. He knew it was ridiculous, but admitting that no one was looking for him felt like he was just offering himself as a target to Harry. Ridiculous, and yet that didn’t stop the fear. 

"Can I get you anything?" Only then did Draco notice that he was shaking. Harry's eyes made him hyper aware of his own body and he realized with a small jolt that he was shaking there on the couch— _hard_. No wonder Harry had set the water down on the table instead of handing it to him.

"I... food?" Draco stopped and rubbed at his cheeks, willing himself to stop crying. "I'm not drunk, I swear, but I haven't eaten since lunch." He was actually quite proud of how steady his voice came out but Harry still looked at him with so much fucking pity... 

"Of course. It's almost three in the morning, I'm surprised you haven't passed out yet. Does soup sound okay?" Merlin, Harry sounded so professional and so calm. He probably dealt with things like this all the time, Draco reasoned, but it still stung in an odd way how insincere the words felt. They were scripted—learned from training and books—not genuine concern. Though, even as he thought that he realized how stupid he was being. Why would someone like Harry Potter have genuine concern about someone like him? He was just doing his job. 

"Yeah, soup's fine." Harry ducked out of the room for just a moment to yell a request to someone named Jackie but even that one second was too much. Draco didn’t realize he wasn't breathing until Harry had sat in front of him on the coffee table again and was holding out his hand.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm not leaving.” Maybe it was stupid, but Draco was too far past the point of social nuances to think very hard about what taking that hand might mean. He was too unsteady and he wanted to throw up, still. Without considering the consequences, Draco placed his own hand in the Auror’s palm. 

“Do you feel okay enough to start the preliminary questioning? We can wait, but I get the feeling you would prefer that fewer Aurors heard about this.” He nodded, trying to steel himself, but it still took him a minute to summon the voice. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Harry squeezed his hand, sending a jolt of warmth through his body, and took out a dictation quill. 

“January 17th, 2018. 2:51 am. Jackie’s Diner. Auror Harry Potter speaking with,” Harry gestured and Draco realized the quill needed to recognize his voice.

“Draco Malfoy.” 

“Right. So, let’s start from the beginning. Walk me through what happened. Where did you start the night?” Draco chewed his lower lip and stared at the floor. 

“Um, Lush mostly—the club on 7th—but a few others before that. I was with Pansy and Blaise. They get bored of places really quickly and I’m usually just dragged along. I was with them until Lush, though. We got in an argument and I left. I didn’t want to deal with people and it wasn’t that far so I decided to walk home. It was stupid, I know, but—” 

“It wasn’t stupid.” That was all Harry said, but it was accompanied by a gentle little squeeze to his hand that felt like a reassurance. Strange. 

“Anyways, I realized someone was following me and I was trying not to be paranoid but… It became clear pretty quickly that he knew me—at least enough to know that I wouldn’t have a wand. He was bigger and I thought I could lose him in the alleyways but I just ended up getting lost and cornered. He…” His voice trailed off, and Draco cursed at the tears falling down his face again but Harry merely waited, patiently watching his expression. 

“Your jeans are ripped. Did that happen in the alleyways?” It wasn’t a leading question, but it was something concrete to start with and Draco appreciated the little bit of support more than words could express. He tried to squeeze the hand holding his to show it, but it was weak at best. Harry probably hadn’t even felt it. 

“Yeah. I was trying not to fight him if I could avoid it because there’s no way I would have won but he had me pinned against a brick wall and I just… I had a Muggle stun gun—it’s 120 volts and I know that’s the limit but—”

“The limit? What do you mean?” Draco paused, trying to take a deep breath that ended up more like choked little gasp. Oxygen was oxygen, though.

“120 volts. Per my release paperwork with the Ministry, I can’t carry anything that’s considered a weapon—and I wasn’t!” He glanced at the dictation quill, making sure it got that piece of information before continuing. “But, anyways, I can’t have any kind of Muggle electrical device that delivers more than 120 volts. Still, that doesn’t really do anything other than surprise the person.” Harry nodded, and the quill continued to jot down what was said as another quill emerged and began making little notes in the margins of what Harry was thinking. 

“I understand. What happened when you shocked him?” But Harry’s grip was a little firmer on his hand, now, and Draco could have sworn he saw the briefest flash of anger on that noble, Gryffindor face. Why anger, though? Because Draco had obeyed the rules to a T and had something that was technically at his legal limit? 

“Not much. I caught him off guard, I think, but it was enough to get my keys—oh. You might want to check him for a wound in his lower left side. I jammed my keys into his side and I don’t know how much damage it did, or if it did anything, but… I guess those are probably evidence now too, huh?” Harry nodded, but made no move to retrieve the keys or check on the wound. He’d said he wasn’t leaving and, apparently, he intended to keep that promise. 

“Yes, they are, but we’ll get you copies before we let you go so you can still get home okay. What happened after you stabbed him with your keys?” It sounded so violent when Harry said it that way… Fuck, was Draco going to get in trouble for that? It was technically assault but wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of rule about self-defense?

“Hey, hey! It’s okay! What’s wrong?” He was practically hyperventilating again. Swearing, he tried to control his breathing and he reminded himself that he was safe, sitting in the back of a diner with more Aurors on the way. More Aurors… 

“I didn’t hurt him—not bad—and I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt him I just wanted to get away from him! Please, you have to understand I didn’t have any other choice and I didn’t know what to do so I just… Please! I can’t go back to Azkaban!”

That was it. Draco pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his free arm around them, burying his face in the dirt and rainwater of his jeans. He had to say the words for it to sink in, apparently, but it had. Finally, it hit him why he was so scared of just talking about it, and why the thought of more Aurors coming didn’t make him feel any better.

He couldn’t go back to Azkaban. He wouldn’t. He’d spent two months there as a part of his sentence after the war and, though others had yelled and complained that wasn’t long enough, he’d been more than ready to get out. It hadn’t even been that long, but… Two months had been enough to suck the life from his body and to fill his lungs with a cold kind of darkness that he was just now beginning to shake. Two months had been enough for the nightmares and the panic attacks. Even now, those two months seemed like the longest year of his life. 

“Hey, look at me, it’s okay. You’re not going to Azkaban. Why would you think that?” Draco shuddered just hearing the word and curled a little more tightly in on himself. Harry squeezed his hand again, but he just winced.

“I attacked someone… I didn’t mean to hurt him, I swear, I just—”

“Hey! Hey, breathe.” Harry’s voice left absolutely no room for interpretation, and Draco sucked in a breath. “You’re not going to Azkaban. No one is pressing charges against you and no one is going to call what you did any kind of assault. It was clearly self defense, and for Merlin’s sake Draco _you’re the victim_.”

“But the Ministry…”

“Draco, please look at me.” Reluctantly, Draco lifted his head just enough for their eyes to meet. “You are not going to Azkaban, okay? I know the Ministry probably isn’t your biggest fan but there’s no way in hell that you are going to be charged or prosecuted for anything that happened tonight. You don’t trust them—I can tell—but listen to me. I will not let anything like that happen, okay? No one is going to come after you and no one is going to Azkaban.” Merlin, Harry looked so fucking _sincere_. Those green eyes were wet with half-formed tears and it was horribly reckless but Draco found himself believing him. 

“You promise?” His voice sounded so pathetic that he almost cursed himself again, but Harry cut in before he could.

“I promise. Nothing is going to happen to you, Draco. You’re safe.” He nodded, but they both knew it was more of an absentminded gesture than true agreement. The words were still registering in his mind anyways. Thankfully, before Harry could call him on it, the woman who had been behind the counter opened the door. 

“One bowl of our finest chicken noodle soup and I brought you a muffin from this morning’s breakfast rush. Anything else you need, Harry?” So they were on a first name basis, Draco noted. It didn’t surprise him. Harry seemed like the type to find hole-in-the-wall places and frequent them often. The woman barely looked at him before leaving. 

“Would you like some soup?” Draco wanted it so badly that his stomach actually hurt, but he didn’t trust his hands to be steady enough yet. Instead, he grabbed the muffin and forced a bite down his throat. His other hand was still in Harry’s. 

“Okay. Do you want to keep going or do you want to take a few minutes to eat?” A break sounded nice but honestly Draco’s stomach was churning over the bite of muffin and he didn’t think he’d be able to accomplish much in that amount of time. He shook his head and made an effort to uncurl his limbs a bit from his body.

“We can keep going. After the keys, I ran and I knew it was hopeless because I didn’t slow him down at all but it was instinct to keep running, I guess. I saw the lights from the diner and I thought if I could make inside someone might help me. He stopped chasing me when I got inside, at first, but I heard the bell over the door and I panicked. I ran to the booth with the most people, hoping for safety in numbers, but he grabbed me. The woman behind the counter told him to stop, but he had the right ID… And then you came out.” Harry nodded, stroking his thumb gently over Draco’s knuckles as both quills wrote furiously. 

“You were smart, and you’re safe now. Did he hurt you at all? Even a little bit?” Harry’s tone sounded professional, but his expression was far from it. His eyebrows were drawn together in a picture of concern and his lower lip was being worried between his teeth. They would be swollen and raw soon. 

“Not really,” But Harry’s face made him pause, and he tried to mentally reassess his body. “Um, a couple bruises on my arms and knees, maybe, and he choked me when he grabbed me by the collar.” Again, Harry nodded and the quills scribbled away. Those emerald eyes caught on his face, though, and the Auror tapped his cheek to indicate a location.

“What about the red marks on your cheek?” Unconsciously, Draco’s fingers lifted to where Harry had gestured. Sure enough, it was sore and hurt to touch but why…

“Oh, that’s from his teeth.” Harry choked. 

“What?!” Draco shrank back, feeling the change in volume all the way down in his bones, but Harry didn’t seem to realize. Immediately, he was pausing the quills and he sat forward on the coffee table, reaching one hand towards the affected cheek. His entire demeanour shifted as he traced the edges of the marks, settling for gently cupping Draco’s jaw instead of hurting him more. 

“Jesus, Draco… I’m so—” But neither of them got to hear the end of that sentence. The door opened, allowing two more Aurors into the room, and Draco knew it was ridiculous but he curled back in on himself anyway. Harry jumped back, but kept their hands together. Even now, it seemed, it wasn’t going to break his promise. 

“Daniels, Everson, his statement along with my notes are there and the assailant is detained near the front counter. Is Luna—”

“I’m here, Harry.” On cue, Luna breezed through the doorway and stepped through the other two strangers like Draco’s angel. Well, his second angel. She was a familiar face, at the very least, and even in school he could remember the calming presence she’d always carried with her. Now was no different, and the air was instantly easier to breathe. 

“Oh my,” she tsked, stepping closer and lifting Draco’s chin. “No, this is no good. Too many Nargles and far too much gobbly-gook.” She sat on the coffee table beside Harry, their legs touching, but Draco didn’t even have time to question it before she was taking his other hand and gently humming.

“Draco, you remember Luna?” He nodded, still relieved to have a barrier of familiarity between him and the strange Aurors. “Well Luna is a mind and spirit healer who sometimes works with our department. I asked for her specifically and her methods aren’t conventional, as I’m sure you remember, but she is incredibly talented at her job. Daniels and Everson, you can go deal with the assailant.” The two Aurors left, glancing at Harry like he definitely wasn’t in a position to be assigning roles, but Draco didn’t really care. Already, their absence felt like a balm to his nerves. 

“Harry, there is far too much gobbly-gook. This needs to be dealt with immediately. Here, hold this.” Luna shoved a cool stone into his palm and waved her wand around, but Draco just looked to Harry for guidance. He’d never understood the Ravenclaw and now was no different. Harry gave him a small smile of acknowledgement. 

“Gobbly-gook is what she calls negative energy. Or, a type of negative energy at least. I can’t explain what she’s doing or why but I know that it always seems to make people feel better. Is this okay?” Draco nodded without really thinking because of course it was. Anything that Harry thought good or valuable was okay with him because… Why? Because he’d suddenly just decided that Harry was the guardian of his well being and would decide what was best for him?

“It’s fine,” But even his voice sounded like it didn’t believe him. “What now?”

“Well, normally I would have you come down to the Ministry for more paperwork but given that it’s 4am and we still have to process the whole crime scene as well as the assailant, I think we’ll let you rest. I can take you home, if you want, and we’ll bring you back in for the rest of the paperwork in the morning once everything’s processed.” He nodded numbly, not really hearing any of the words. Would Blaise or Pansy be back home by now? He doubted it, they’d probably gone home with their choices for the night and wouldn’t be back until well after sunrise. 

“Okay, yeah. I can give you the address.” Draco recited it, letting Luna finish whatever energy cleansing she was doing as Harry finished the last of his report and signed it. Harry didn’t let go of his hand, though. When Luna declared him good enough to leave, they stood together and Harry led him out a back door so that he didn’t have to face all the questions and Aurors. He’d never been so grateful for the existence of a bloody Gryffindor before. 

“Are you feeling okay enough to Apparate?” His voice said yes, even though his stomach was still unsure, but he traded Harry’s hand for his arm and felt the pull of Apparition almost instantly. Then, they were in his living room. 

Within the safety of his own home, he felt steady enough to let go of Harry’s arm without taking his hand again, but he still shook as he unlaced his boots. Harry was looking around the apartment, no doubt trying to figure out where the hell his roommates were. 

“The whole place is secure. Door and windows are all locked, and I’ll close the Apparition wards when I leave. You should change into some dry clothes and get some rest. Maybe take a shower. Will your roommates be home soon?”

“Yes,” Draco lied, feeling that urge in his gut yet again to have some kind of safety measure. It wasn’t like Harry was going to kidnap him or assault him but, now that they were alone, that old instinct flared and he caved. Of course someone was on their way home. Someone would definitely know if Harry tried anything. 

“Okay, get some sleep and I’ll swing by once we’re ready for you. It shouldn’t be until around one or two in the afternoon, though, and I’ll knock the old fashioned way so don’t worry about the wards. Can I do anything or get you anything before I go?” Just for a tiny split second, some part of him ached to reach out and cling to the warm, solid body in front of him. Harry wasn’t in uniform, and Draco could imagine exactly how his smell and his warmth would feel as it seeped through that thin shirt. But he shook his head. 

And then Harry was gone. 

Draco hadn’t realized how much of his current level of ease was dependent on the man. The shadows of his apartment felt far too close to those alleyways and he was shaking by the time he made it into the bathroom. It was stupid and he knew he was completely safe, but that didn’t stop the anxiety from crawling under his skin. Maybe hot water would be enough to chase it away?

Blinding fluorescent light and a locked door was enough security for him to slip into the shower, but he still rushed through the motions and tried not to close his eyes for very long. Ridiculous. He knew he was being ridiculous. And yet, he still grabbed Pansy’s Muggle curling iron before opening the bathroom door. Of course there was no one there. 

He toweled off haphazardly and collapsed back into his bed, relishing in his messy, unmade sheets and the familiar weight of his blankets. It was nothing compared to Harry’s presence, though. 

Shaking off that thought, Draco buried his face into his pillow and chose to leave the lights on in his room. He was still holding the curling iron, but he doubted Pansy would miss it before tomorrow. Finally, only when his body refused to stay conscious, he let himself fall asleep. 


End file.
